


Morse Code

by Midnight1890



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Complete, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Jarate, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Rating: M, Short Story, Sniper aint taking no ones shit, Sniper helps himself, Soldeir helps, Spooked, Spooks - Freeform, Swearing, The Author Regrets Everything, Tthe author regrets nothing, ambassador
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 07:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12930201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight1890/pseuds/Midnight1890
Summary: Sniper is almost a half-hour away from being done with a no-respawn match (in which once you die, you're out for the round. Victory is achieved by eliminating the entire other team.). When Medic comes up to his perch a little early for tempt him with some "distractions"Note: Nothing sexual actually happens, they just start to but never even really lose any clothing.





	Morse Code

**Author's Note:**

> Trying my hand at short stories! Full things are a lot of commitment (As I'm realizing the hard way.) So I'm trying a short little 'Point A to Point B' thing I can write (and read) in a single sitting.  
> I blame me reading too much Poe.
> 
>  
> 
> I did a short couple questions I had when I wrote this at the end.

The broad-shouldered, blue eyed male gazed over the battlefield. Sharp eyes picking out his friends from the blood-soaked scene. Respawn had been disabled. It was now all they could do to survive by using their cunning, intelligence and brute strength.

From the corner of his vision, the hawk-eyed Sniper thought he saw his mate fall to the ground with a bullet through his head. But a moment later he stirred and stepped back out into the fray. Brushing calmly past his companions.

  
The Sniper’s golden band on his finger seemed to tighten. He twisted it and took a sip of coffee from the mug that waited on a nearby crate sitting alongside his long, curved machete that reflected the sun onto a small jar that was half-filled with his liquid waste for the day. He lost track of the German medic, but returned to work. Forcefully blowing a .308 bullet through the enemy heavy weapons guy’s skull.

The door to his perch creaked open and the warmth of another human being, filled the space. The newcomer's steps revibrated off the wooden boards in a relaxing familiar way.

“Hey Doc.” He shot a glance at the timer that loomed ominously in the sky over the blood spattered arena.  
25 minutes left.

“Awfully early to be trying to seduce me mate.” The slightly smaller male pressed his weight into Sniper’s flank. Running his fingers up his arm, drawing the top of his nails in small circles in the toned flesh of his shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck soothingly before allowing his fingers to find respite working the knots out of the Sniper’s hair. “No ring?” the Australian purred around his touch, finding himself relaxing despite how much time they had left.

The German stared almost… taken aback? Before responding, “Breast pocket.” he assured his sniper companion, “Vouldn’t vant to lose it vould ve?” Sniper nodded, taking note of how shockingly blue the medic’s eyes shined… but then, the doctor did view him as the light of of his lengthy life so maybe it wasn’t overly unusual.

Sniper tilted his head into his partner’s belly, in part for the feeling on the man’s presence, but also to help him line up a shot that made the enemy demoman crumple, mid-charge, in front of the Sniper’s soldier comrade. Who saluted the Sniper in thanks.

The doctor’s scent enveloped him before both males pulled away. Sniper to reload, but medic in a seemingly flare of self-consciousness. The scent was slightly out of place. Smelling slightly of a french or italian businessman. The stench of blood muted and distorted the scent of the powerful cologne, but even still it was enough to perk his attention.

“Did’ya kill the spy on the way up here? Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Nein. Landed a good blow before the weasel fled through.” The German sat on the crate separating Sniper and his machete, just enough that it would be a struggle to get to it, should Sniper decided he needed to. “I’m glad you’re alright. Usually you’ve gotten into some kind of trouble by now.” The medic smiled warmly at him.

“You know it.” He relaxed again and his partner;s hands reached out and expertly kneaded at his shoulders again. Passing Sniper his drink when the Australian reached to take a sip but was greeted instead by well muscled thigh. His cheeks turned red and he muttered an incoherent thanks.

Sniper’s mate seemed oddly fidgety.  
“Somethin’ bothering ya mate?” He asked around his mug.

“I just anticipated a little more… affection…” Medic responded sheepishly.

“I’m sorry respawn is disabled until the end of the match.” He snorted “And I like my paycheck.”

His earpiece crackled “Only one more enemy left, the Spy!” The medic next to him grunted.

“If I vas him I’d be halfway to Timbuktu.”

“Yeah well he’s not always the most sensible guy.” Sniper’s eyes narrowed gaze raking over his friends again for any off behavior or any doubles. Not seeing any he looked for the haze of a clock-watch. Still finding nothing his eyes widened and his ring tightened uncomfortably again and a deep root of fear gripped his stomach as he thought of the Spy’s choices, apparently at the same time Medic did as the German scoffed,

“Vell, if he’s not fleeing he’s probably vith his victim.” Sniper’s cold interrogating gaze met his wearily.

“Like me?” Medic looked hurt.

“Come on surely you have more faith in me then that?” The man’s gaze never wavered from Sniper’s.

“Prove it.”

The German slipped off the crate letting the machete clatter to the ground with his movements, using his hands on his partners shoulders to massage the blades. Resting his broad chin in Sniper’s mass of curly black hair. The Australian rumbled and pawed at the top of a pocket. He tried to keep his breathing regular and collected, but he suspected he was running out of time. He hooked the small circlet in his grip and fished it out, examining it. He kept making the happy noises and nuzzled into the German’s chest who took this as an indicator to continue with his advances slowly trying to seduce the sniper.

“Vhy’d you grab that?” Medic murmured softly.

“You’re not fighting anymore. I like playing with it.”

“Hmpf.” Was the only response he got. His partner seemed more focused on his foreplay and unbuttoning his leather jacket then thinking about it too much. _Good, that will buy me more time._

Sniper read the text carved on the inside of the ring. A vow written in his mate’s native tongue. It was a simple vow to protect their mate even in death. Now a few letters were splattered with bloody fingerprints that Medic had used in his final moments to spell out ‘Ambassador’ in German. The Ambassador was Spy’s favorite hand pistol and packed a hell of a punch knowing for puncturing clean though an enemies’ brow bone.

Now having what he needed Sniper cleaned off the blood with his half on shirt, courtesy of the fake. After that he twisted his own still throbbing bang before sliding Medic’s last words in front of Snipers own wedding band. He rose breaking the impostors affectionate kisses to Sniper’s neck. Moving to bring his coffee mug to the crate.

“Let me get that for you.” The false offered. Sniper shook his head,

“I need to get up for once.” He shoved past the sapphire eyed impostor. Kicked his machete into his hand. Turning it over so it glinted off the sheer edge and the sun’s bright light reflected right into the Spy’s pretty little eyes.Those same eyes squinted and his nose wrinkled just enough that his glasses slid off it. Dangling limply from his ears. “Might I suggest switching your contacts out for frames a tad more often eh mate?”

The impostor snarled and lunged for him. Disguise finally melting away. Sniper just barely slipped out of the way of a well concealed switchblade but was still sent spiraling to the ground from the sheer force of the bullrush.

Sniper was well aware that spy was among the eldest of his team, thanks to his twin, with whom, the sniper was quite close with. However despite his age he was exceptionally cunning. Despite Sniper just barely being of American drinking age, he knew that spy commanded respect from both teams because of his strength and intelligence.

He leaped out the way of a bullet aimed for his temple, knocking his rifle off its stand. Slamming his hops into the boards behind it. There was a loud crack. An involuntary scream of pain and shock. A sly smile from the Spy and Sniper’s entire left leg went completely limp. Shit. The Spy tried again to put a bullet in his brain but the gun clicked and failed. Spy shrugged. Cocky now. Tossing his pistol aside and reverting solely to the faster, more reliable knife.

Sniper snarled and pushed off his good leg and barreled into Spy ripping a good sized chunk from the smaller male’s chest, revealing small, flat portions of ivory colored ribs. Sniper then ripped the mask clean off spy’s face. Revealing well defined feature, soft gentle eyes to match, messy cream colored hair with a small fire shaped patch of gray in front and gray sideburns. He had aged quite well all things considered. Sniper took in a breath without thinking.

Spy gave an impish grin and took advantage of his younger, slightly lustier, and most certainly dumber opponent’s moment of adoration and slammed his fist into the bigger male’s jowls.

Sniper was jolted back into reality becoming acutely aware that his time getting to see Spy for looks alone, had come and gone. He stumbled back and snatched the jar from the top of the crate and smashed it into Spy’s cheekbone when he stalked close enough to finish the job.

The spy screamed like a banshee partly of pain and partly of rage.

“My suit!” Sniper wrapped a large hand around the spy’s throat and flipped the flailing body into the crate, shattering and splintering it. Ripped the machete over the Frenchman’s belly letting it split open and his insides try to free themselves on the confines of his gut. Inciting a fresh wail of pure agony from the dying male.

Tossing the blade aside. Sniper again closed his bloody fists around his opponent's painfully small throat. “This is for trying to trick me you bloody idiot.” He pressed down hard on the traitors windpipe, making his deep blue eyes bulge and the trashing began.

There was a sudden pain in the Australian’s flank. The spy plunged his knife into Sniper’s kidney and ripped down opening a long jagged wound down to his broken hip-bone. With a scream he grabbed spy by the face, forced him to pull the knife from his side. Reared onto his knees and slammed Spy into the ground, twice, three, four, five, times before the French-man dropped the knife and sniper threw it out the window in his free hand before slamming Spy into the floor one more time. Crashing down on his throat again he snarled quietly into the now unrecognizable bloody face,

“That was for the Doc Arschgeige.” Held Spy’s throat closed until the steadily feebler kicking and scratches failed, and the Spy’s body went limp. Finally melting out from under the bloodied Sniper. His intercom crackled again

“The enemy team has been eliminated. Return to the base.”

Sniper suddenly realized how exhausted he was, shuddered and collapsed into his uninjured side, not minding, or hardly noticing the pool of blood around him. His breathing deepened and slowed as his eyes darted back and forth trying to pinpoint the small black dots that flickered across his vision.

Across the room the door slammed open and the heavily armored soldier strutted in, finding the dying man laying on the ground in a pool of blood, some his own some his opponents, and among it mixed splinters from the crate, and shards of glass from his jar. Soldier stomped over and found that Sniper’s eyes still moved with Soldier’s movement. They were a hazy blue and there was a shard on glass in one that the Sniper was too out of it to notice. Soldier grunted gently dragged the surprisingly light body up to his shoulder and took the bleeding Sniper to the good doctor.

 

*******

  
Sniper awoke some time later in an electric bed. Half his vision was dark, the other half was blurry as it tried to pick up the slack that the not working eye could no longer take. Across the room he saw the Ivory coat of the Doctor who hummed quietly to himself as he cleaned off a scalpel. Sniper’s eye narrowed trying to judge how far away he was but as far as he could tell, he could reach out and grab one of the tails on the German’s coat.

“Doc…” He choked out weakly. The medic straightened his back at the sound of his title, coming to his patient after checking it wasn’t someone in the infirmary’s doorway.

“Ah! Herr Sniper, you’re awake!” He sounded pleasantly surprised. “I vas vorried that the blood loss could’ve sent you into a coma.” He explained sitting next to him. Twining their fingers when he was close enough to Sniper’s outstretched arm. Sniper’s attention was brought to the golden glimmer on Medic’s finger and noticed that he was missing one of the wedding bands, but that it was now where it belonged. So he relaxed again, smiling a little as the German ran his fingers through his mate’s hair. Taking a note that the air around him didn’t smell like a french assassin anymore.”

“When’d you respawn?” Sniper asked his voice raspy and gruff from dehydration.

“As soon as the match ended liebling.” He soothed glancing at the IV pole that had a blood transfusion and a fluid bag going. Sniper chuckled

“Poor fool never knew what hit him.” Medic gave him a half crooked smile

“Vhatever do you mean by that?”

“He never knew that we setup the rings so if something happened to one of us the other would be warned before it was too late for them to.” Medic giggled almost in agreement.

“I take it that means you knew to look.” Sniper nodded and went to sit up, but the painful stitches in his side highly encouraged him to lay back down. Letting out a soft whine.

“Voah, Voah Liebe honey settle down. It’s alright… I’m right here, it's okay.” Medic gently adjusted Sniper so that he could still get the attention and affection he desired without hurting himself.

“Bastard has nothing against stealing people’s rings but is higher than wearing them in front of the other partner. Self-absorbed little--” Medic cut him off.

“Shhh…. You can complain all you want but right now… right now you’re safe and that’s vhat matters.” Sniper face heated at the affectionate nuzzle medic drew across his cheek.

“Am I allowed to tell you what happened?”

“Schnell, schnell.”

“Alright, alright. So he shows up to my perch and I ask him what he’s doing up there almost 30 minutes before the bell, and I don’t think he knew prior what you possibly could be doing up there but rolled with it.” Medic’s gray eyes alight in a teasing manner.

“Having affairs vith the enemy now, are ve?” which earned him a playful cuff through his graying hair.

“Bloody hell! You know it’s not like that!” Medic beamed at him stupidly kissing him a moment before saying.

“Eh, I trust you, rest now. I’m here if you need anything, ja?” He stood up and stayed in range just long enough to hear Sniper’s slightly embarrassed

“Sure Doc.”and when Medic stepped away Sniper rolled over and his breaths deepened. With and occasional soft snoring. Leaving Medic to his working softly humming a song to himself.

As he did he carefully twisted the ring on his finger to reveal the carving on the outside of the ring. A stanza of a poem Sniper had spent a good few weeks writing prior to proposing to him. This line simply read. “Till death do us part.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some thoughts I had while writing this:  
> Q: Why is Sniper married at 21?  
> A: Life's too short to wait, and once you know, you know.
> 
> Q: Medic is like, 30 years older than Sniper, Jesus talk about a sugar daddy.  
> A: No. No. No. No. Nothing like that. If anything Sniper just like more experienced guys who know how to make him feel important.
> 
> Q: Sniper stops and admires at Spy??  
> A: Yup. He's young. He likes older guys. Spy's hot as hell. Works for him
> 
> Q: I can't write accents for my life.  
> A: Well it's certainly better than trying to speak them.
> 
> So I'd thought I'd share so if anyone else had similar thought processes, and to put out there I do think about these things every now and again.
> 
> I think I'll do a couple more like this and start writing short stories as my main form of writing from now on.


End file.
